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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726444">Burning Desire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin'>round_robin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Fever, First Time, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magic, Naked Cuddling, Oral Sex, Scenting, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, monster hunt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 16:34:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,297</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fingers shaking from the cold already seeping back in, Jaskier stripped off his last doublet, then his undershirt. Quickly diving back under the cloak, he let out a sharp inhale when his arm touched Geralt's chest. “Good fucking shit, you're on fire!” Sanity left for a moment and Jaskier pressed himself against Geralt's chest, wrapping his arms around broad shoulders, and pushing his face into the crook of Geralt's neck.</p><p>It was like sinking into a hot bath. Heat radiated out from every inch of Geralt's skin, and Jaskier felt it down to his bones. The winter cloak over top of them held it all in like a cocoon. Oh, if Jaskier had one wish, it would be to never leave the magnificent heat of Geralt's body ever again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1186</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>On the Witcher wiki, under Witcher abilities, it says: "superhuman abilities." I took this as a large license to give Geralt the power to control his body temperature. The title is a song by the German band Oomph! (one of my favorite bands) called Brennende Liebe, or Burning Desire. They did an English version of the song too, if anyone's interested. It mostly has nothing to do with this fic, I just liked the title.</p><p>All mistakes are mine, let me know if you find a typo. Please enjoy!</p><p>If anyone's interested, I'm back on tumblr now as round--robin</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It felt like Jaskier learnt something new about Geralt every day. He wouldn't flatter himself that he knew everything, but after a few months, new talents and hidden secrets continued to reveal themselves. Jaskier always had a feeling Geralt was a far more complicated creature than he let on, and he was constantly amazed by the Witcher.</p><p>They turned north, looking for coin and a head start on a brutal winter that began to close in. They weren't so lucky, on either front. Half a day's ride from a good sized town, Geralt forced them to stop in a cave. “We can't go any farther,” he said. “A storm will be here soon and this is the best shelter we'll find.”</p><p>He pushed Roach's reins into Jaskier's hands and went to scout the cave, making sure no monsters got there first. Once he deemed it empty, Geralt led them inside and started making camp. Jaskier gently placed his lute on a raised pile of rocks (no sense in risking it to a misstep from Roach in the cramped cave) and stood up. “I'll go look for fire wood. The storm won't be here for a bit, I'll be quick.”</p><p>“No fire,” Geralt said before Jaskier took a step.</p><p>He stared at Geralt, mouth agape. “It. Is. <em>Freezing</em>. Out there, in here, freezing. I will die without a fire. Maybe you will too.”</p><p>“Do you want to suffocate to death?” He jabbed a thumb towards the entrance. “We're too far away from the mouth, the smoke will choke you.”</p><p>“And you!”</p><p>Geralt arched an eyebrow and Jaskier sighed. “Alright, probably not you, but damn it, why didn't you say before we stopped?” Jaskier imagined the next few hours—shivering, trembling, not sleeping, then having to get up and trudge through the still freezing world outside.</p><p>“It wouldn't have made a difference,” Geralt said. “You'd freeze out there too. At least with shelter, you have better odds of surviving.” Jaskier noticed how much Geralt didn't include himself in this freezing to death scenario. He supposed that was too mundane a death for a Witcher.</p><p>With a grumble and a few muttered curses, Jaskier started unpacking his bag, removing all his clothes and putting them on. None of his belongings were suited for this kind of weather (which Geralt had told him, several times) but it was all he had. It's not like Geralt would share his beautiful fur cloak...</p><p>They ate their supper cold, which did not help the deep chill in Jaskier's bones. No matter how many layers he wore, he couldn't get warm, part of him feared he'd never be warm again. As he nibbled on the last bit of bread, he tried not to fantasize about how nice it would be to eat toast instead.</p><p>Jaskier could no longer delay the inevitable. Climbing to his feet, he grabbed his bedroll and started untying it, searching for a flat-ish spot to rest.</p><p>“Come here,” Geralt said. He set out his bedroll earlier when he'd normally be making a fire. Bastard.</p><p>“I'm perfectly fine over—” The snappy comeback died in Jaskier's throat. He turned to see Geralt sitting up on his bedroll, stripped to the waist.</p><p>It's not like he hadn't seen it before. They traveled together, after all, sometimes even bathed together in the same river, stayed in the same rooms... Jaskier had definitely seen Geralt shirtless before, naked even. But... why now—in this achingly cold cave—did Geralt decide fewer clothes were the way to go?</p><p>“Do you want to freeze to death?” Geralt asked. Funny, this sounded like their earlier conversation. “Sleep close to me and I can keep you warm.” A wry smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “Or, you can sleep on Roach for her warmth. Your choice.”</p><p>Once Jaskier's brain thawed out, he crossed the cave in two large strides, throwing his bedroll down next to Geralt's. “Thank you, Geralt, my amazing friend. Yes, under your cloak, I think we'll be just warm enough tonight.”</p><p>Geralt snorted and laid down. Jaskier went to do the same, but another shake of Geralt's head stopped him. “Take them off. You don't need three doublets.”</p><p>“Normally, no, but right now, it's fucking freezing.” Was he talking to himself? Just because Geralt could sleep stripped down didn't mean Jaskier could, not in this cold.</p><p>“Your choice,” Geralt said.</p><p>He waited patiently as Jaskier settled himself, arranging Geralt's winter cloak so it covered them both. When Jaskier finally laid down, he placed an arm across the bard's bedroll, wrapping it around his shoulders and pulling him close. A small smirk formed on Geralt's lips as he waited...</p><p>After less than a minute, Jaskier started to squirm. He pulled at the collar of his doublet. “It's a lot warmer under this cloak than I thought. I think I can take one layer off.” He shifted again, removing the blue doublet, then returned. Another few seconds went by. Geralt smelled the tinge of sweat gathering at Jaskier's neck. “Wow, this is...” Again, he sat up and removed a layer, leaving him with one doublet and an undershirt.</p><p>He went to lay back down <em>again</em>, and Geralt held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Take the rest off.” Jaskier opened his mouth like he was going to argue. “Trust me.”</p><p>Fingers shaking from the cold already seeping back in, Jaskier stripped off his last doublet, then his undershirt. Quickly diving back under the cloak, he let out a sharp inhale when his arm touched Geralt's chest. “Good fucking shit, you're on fire!” Sanity left for a moment and Jaskier pressed himself against Geralt's chest, wrapping his arms around broad shoulders, and pushing his face into the crook of Geralt's neck.</p><p>It was like sinking into a hot bath. Heat radiated out from every inch of Geralt's skin, and Jaskier felt it down to his bones. The winter cloak over top of them held it all in like a cocoon. Oh, if Jaskier had one wish, it would be to never leave the magnificent heat of Geralt's body ever again.</p><p>Geralt chuckled. “I tried to tell you. I won't freeze to death.”</p><p>“But you'd let me?” There was no malice in Jaskier's words, not when he was so lovely and warm. Without the multiple layers of clothing, the heat wasn't unbearable, in fact, it was perfect. Geralt was perfect in so many ways and Jaskier was always happy to discover a new one.</p><p>“I invited you over, didn't I?”</p><p>“Mmm,” Jaskier hummed against Geralt's chest. Good gods, even his nose was warm. Why hadn't they been sharing a bedroll this whole time?</p><p>Geralt rearranged them a little so Jaskier's back was pressed to his chest and wrapped his arms around the bard, tangling their feet together for good measure. Jaskier didn't notice before, but Geralt removed his boots as well, and now he had ten perfectly warm toes pressing into his calves, massaging and relaxing all his tension away.</p><p>“Goodnight,” Jaskier whispered, already drifting off.</p><p>Geralt settled his chin into the crook of Jaskier's neck. “Goodnight,” he whispered right next to Jaskier's ear.</p><p>Sleep soon took him, and while Jaskier wasn't certain, he thought he felt a hot breath across his neck, like Geralt was... sniffing him. But, then again, it could be the beginnings of a dream.</p><p>~</p><p>Jaskier never complained about the cold again. Well, he hardly complained, not when he knew he had Geralt to keep him warm through the coldest nights winter threw at them. Even when they stopped at inns, Geralt always offered to share a bed and keep Jaskier warm. It was a good thing too, as most inns on this part of the Continent were little more than shacks, the straw insulation rotting away, creating holes in the walls for wind to whip through, or had frightful drafts that sent freezing air down Jaskier's neck.</p><p>After some days of freezing travel, Jaskier was so desperate to feel Geralt's heat on every inch of his skin, he stripped down to his under garments. The first time it happened, a red flush of embarrassment flashed across his chest and cheeks. Geralt said nothing, he just shook his head and took off his breeches as well, climbing into the bed and holding Jaskier close.</p><p>If Jaskier was ever too... overly familiar, Geralt said nothing about it. Not even when he rubbed his face across the fuzzy hair covering Geralt's chest, or wedged his hands between Geralt's strong thighs to thaw out his fingers. And if there ever was a stirring of... something, neither mentioned it. Not that Jaskier was opposed. Geralt seemed to prefer his partners female, and he never brought it up, so Jaskier never brought it up. The last thing he wanted to do was lose both his best friend and his heat source.</p><p>When they finally made it to their destination—a town with a pest problem, what else—Jaskier managed to convince the mayor to let Geralt fight the beast in the morning. “Trust me, my good sir, Geralt is deadly at any time, but a well rested Witcher is more fearsome still. You want to make sure that venomous arachas stays dead? Let him sleep first, then he'll send your monster to the depths of hell where it belongs.”</p><p>Jaskier's motives were about fifty percent altruistic. They'd been on the road for days and even Geralt had started to look tired around the eyes. A few hours in a soft bed would do him wonders. And a few hours in a <em>warm</em> bed would do wonders for Jaskier.</p><p>The mayor reluctantly agreed and after a short dinner, they headed up to their room. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jaskier could not get out of his clothes fast enough. It was paradoxical in a way, in order to truly experience the divine warmth of Geralt's arms wrapped around him, Jaskier first had to risk the cold biting at his dangly bits.</p><p>He hopped from one foot to another, removing his boots and stockings, shucking his doublet, undershirt, breeches, and finally landing in the bed. As soon as his ass hit the rough sheets, he realized his mistake. In Jaskier's haste to take off his breeches, something else came off with them... Laying on the floor just out of reach, his long underwear peeled off with his breeches and he was now completely naked in bed, a bed about to be filled with the most handsome of Witchers.</p><p>Jaskier swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to Geralt's. Geralt said nothing—which wasn't always good—but a small smile ghosted across his lips. He quickly removed his own clothes: boots, jerkin, breeches... underclothes. His cock, a lovely, thick thing, was half hard and Jaskier had to bite his lips to keep from licking them. <em>In this cold</em>, he thought to himself, <em>impressive</em>.</p><p>Geralt climbed into the bed and automatically wrapped his arms around Jaskier. But this time, instead of slotting himself against Jaskier's back, he pulled them chest to chest, nose to nose. Those ethereal Witcher eyes peered into Jaskier's corn flower blue irises, like he was trying to read Jaskier's soul. It wasn't difficult, he wore his heart and soul on his sleeve, Geralt knew that by now.</p><p>Jaskier opened his mouth to ask... something. Anything to break the silence, but Geralt's lips met his, swallowing any words he might have. Jaskier melted into the kiss, plastering himself against Geralt in an entirely new way, not just to share the heat, but to touch more, to feel more of whatever this was.</p><p>After a warm tongue thoroughly licked the inside of his mouth, Geralt pulled back, one hand stroking Jaskier's cheek. “Is this what you want?” he rumbled.</p><p>Jaskier managed to find his voice again. “Yes,” he whispered. “More than anything.” He saw now, the weeks building up to this. Geralt might look scary and beastly to the rest of the world, but Jaskier had seen his heart, one that cared for the people he killed monsters for, that gave coin to homeless elves. It wasn't as tender a heart as Jaskier's, but it wasn't made of stone. Of course Geralt wanted this the moment he offered to keep Jaskier warm, and Jaskier had wanted since the moment he first laid eyes on Geralt, the White Wolf.</p><p>Geralt kissed him again, deeper this time, teeth biting gently at lips, tongue roaming and exploring, drinking in the taste of Jaskier's mouth. For his part, Jaskier couldn't hold still. His hands wandered along Geralt's back, rubbing strong muscles; if only they had some oil, then Jaskier could show off some of his other talents, he'd give Geralt the best massage he'd ever had, perfect for sore, hard working muscles.</p><p>Geralt's cock stood at full attention now, resting in the hollow of Jaskier's hip. If Geralt was a bonfire, his cock was the white hot hammer of a blacksmith's forge, burning through to Jaskier's very soul. He shifted his hips and thrust against him, their cocks brushing together, making Jaskier moan.</p><p>Geralt broke the kiss and moved his hands to cage Jaskier's hips, holding him down on the bed. “Not tonight,” he said.</p><p>Jaskier tried (unsuccessfully) to stop the whine that broke free from his throat. “What? Why? You just asked me if I wanted. Believe me, I <em>want</em>. All of this, everything we're doing, it's perfect and I'd like to keep going.”</p><p>He tried to kiss again, but strong hands held him down. “We need to rest, hunt the arachas before dawn, before it wakes enough to kill anyone else.” He kissed down Jaskier's neck, and the bard shamelessly leaned into the touch, trying to change Geralt's mind about how much sleep they actually needed. “When we return. When the arachas is dead and we have coin enough to stay for the night...” he trailed off, lips brushing Jaskier's ear, “...I will take you to bed.”</p><p>A contented sigh spilled from Jaskier's lips. He leaned forward, burying himself in Geralt's heat again. “Fine,” he sighed. “Tomorrow. You better not keep me waiting.” He punctuated the words with a small nip to Geralt's neck. Geralt chuckled and kissed him one last time before settling them for sleep.</p><p>It took a few moments to get comfortable (what with his raging hard cock trying to poke through the mattress) but Jaskier managed to get situated. In a way, it was like every night they spent together: Geralt holding him tight, safe and warm, the promise of tomorrow the only difference. Huddled together under the thinnest, most moth-eaten blanket he'd ever seen, Jaskier didn't care about the monster that waited for them on the other side of sleep, not with Geralt's burning chest under his cheek, strong arms wrapped around him, and the promise of possibly more tomorrow. If they survived the arachas.</p><p>~</p><p>They left the inn when it was still dark and headed towards the arachas' nesting spot. They didn't have an exact location, as everyone in town was smart enough to know arachas venom spread through the air. The beast required a wide berth and part of Jaskier feared for Geralt. He was at his best when he fought up close, but up close to an arachas was a dangerous place to be, even for a Witcher.</p><p>“It's killed eight people in the last two days,” Geralt said. “It will be low on toxin. I can get close, finish it off quick.”</p><p>“Here's hoping,” Jaskier muttered under his breath.</p><p>When they were still a good distance away from its possible nest, Geralt dismounted and handed Roach's reins to Jaskier. “Stay here, guard Roach. Neither of you can get much closer than this.”</p><p>Jaskier wanted to grab Geralt's shoulder—pull him back, make him explain—but he twisted his fingers in Roach's reins instead. “What's your plan? How will I know if you killed it?” <em>Or if it killed you? </em>his mind supplied unhelpfully.</p><p>Geralt didn't answer at first, he was busy taking deep, rapid breaths. “I'm going to hold my breath and run in. I'll be back soon.”</p><p>“What? That's not a plan!” Jaskier shrieked, but Geralt was off running, his chest heaving as he pushed more air into his lungs. Jaskier saw him take one last deep breath before he disappeared into the trees.</p><p>Panic clenched in his gut and he held tight to Roach, lest he run off after Geralt and get them both killed. The distant sounds of screaming beast and grunting Witcher echoed through the trees. One final screeching wail sliced through the predawn air and Jaskier fell to his knees in the snow. Geralt never made noises like that, surly, it was the beast who met it's end...</p><p>Just as light started to lick the horizon, a familiar white head appeared in the trees, moving fast. Jaskier scrambled to his feet. “Geralt!”</p><p>Geralt said nothing, his lips pressed together like he was still holding his breath. As he got closer to Jaskier, he started stripping his armor, tossing it into the snow. Before Jaskier could even consider, think, about anything, Geralt turned and ran headlong into the river they stopped near, submerging himself completely.</p><p>“Ah!” Jaskier let out a startled cry, stumbling to the ground again in shock. First he survived the venomous arachas and now he wanted to freeze himself to death? “G-geralt,” Jaskier's voice shook.</p><p>With a large splash, Geralt appeared from under the water, throwing his head back, water drops cascading through the air like diamonds in the muted light. The sun started to rise in earnest and Jaskier saw a thin mist rising from his skin like steam. He realized almost immediately: it was <em>steam</em>. The near frozen water started to vaporize when it touched Geralt's heated skin. In the early morning light, Geralt's skin glowed golden, like his eyes, the mist surrounding him creating an ethereal cloud, an angel emerging from a gilded sea.</p><p>“I had to wash any possible toxin off my skin before it was too late,” Geralt said by way of explanation. “My armor should be fine.” Jaskier didn't say anything, his eyes just traced Geralt as he emerged from the river, naked skin giving no care for the bitter cold around them.</p><p>“The gas bag on it's back wasn't as empty as I hoped. I guess—” Geralt cut himself off, his brow furrowing, mouth turning down. A large hand traced down Jaskier's cheek, wiping a tear away. “Jaskier, why are you crying?”</p><p>He was? Jaskier licked his lips and found salt clinging there, he was indeed crying. He shook his head, unable to speak for a moment as the golden angel in front of him looked upon the humble bard with such kind, other worldly eyes. His white wolf... “You are so beautiful,” he finally managed to whisper.</p><p>Geralt smiled, a little reluctant at first. He pulled Jaskier to his feet, holding him against his chest, that superhuman heat radiating through Jaskier's doublet, warming the deep chill in his bones. Pressing a sweet but far too short kiss to Jaskier's lips, he nodded to the forest. “We should go. Help me gather my armor.”</p><p>He tried to set off, but Jaskier held tight, pulling him down for another kiss. “Please,” he whispered against fiery lips. “You said you'd take me to bed... please.”</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt mumbled between frantic kisses. Jaskier was by no means a weak man, but he was no Witcher, Geralt usually didn't have trouble disentangling them... usually. “Jaskier, yes, but right now we lack a bed. Back at the inn,” Jaskier nibbled his bottom lip and Geralt couldn't help his moan, “back—back at the inn, I promise. I will not fuck you here in the woods. You'll freeze.”</p><p>Despite their proximity, Jaskier's skin was starting to feel the cold of the snow again. Reluctantly, he pulled away. “Alright. Let's go.”</p><p>They gathered Geralt's armor and—after Geralt checked for any damage from the venom—headed back to town.</p><p>It took far too long to get back to town. Then far too long to deal with the mayor. The bastard wanted proof, which he knew they couldn't give him, the toxic cloud around the arachas wouldn't dissipate until morning at least. He agreed to give them half Geralt's bounty, the other half when they brought back proof in the morning. Normally, Geralt would complain about staying in a shitty inn one extra night (the man preferred the open road, that wasn't a secret) but tonight, they both wanted a bed for the same reason.</p><p>They held a socially acceptable distance while they were in the pub, but the second the door of their room closed, Jaskier plastered himself to Geralt's chest, tipping his head back to receive the Witcher's burning kisses.</p><p>Geralt did not disappoint. His body heat radiated through the layers of his armor and Jaskier's doublet, lips like glowing coals as they drank down Jaskier's moans. He broke away far too soon and started trailing kisses down Jaskier's throat, pulling him out of his clothes as he went.</p><p>“Mmm,” Jaskier moaned, hands fumbling to open ties and toe off shoes. Even as more of his skin was bared to the chilly room, Jaskier wasn't cold, not with Geralt holding tight in a familiar, yet entirely new way.</p><p>As Geralt undressed himself, he kept one arm wrapped around Jaskier at all times: curled around his hips, under his ass, supporting his back and neck. It definitely wasn't the most efficient way to remove armor but now that they were alone, Geralt wasn't about to let go, not until they were both satisfied and exhausted.</p><p>But the moment came when Geralt needed both hands and he set Jaskier down on the bed. As soon as their skin stopped touching, an icy blast shot across Jaskier's neck. He grabbed the thin blanket and held it close, waiting until he could hold Geralt instead.</p><p>Unlacing his boots, Geralt kicked them off, then finally, <em>finally </em>pulled off his breeches. That magnificent cock gave no care for the cold, standing straight out, pointing towards Jaskier like an arrow. Geralt could shoot him with that arrow any time, now, preferably.</p><p>Jaskier licked his lips. “Come here,” he whispered.</p><p>Geralt did. He climbed onto the bed, blanketing his larger body on top of Jaskier. Oh, it was so familiar, yet so alien. They'd held each other dozens of times, shared space, body heat, you name it. But this was the first time Geralt's cock decided to spell out how much he desired Jaskier. Jaskier thrust his hips up, grinding their cocks together, hoping Geralt understood what his mouth was too occupied to say.</p><p>Geralt's warm tongue pushed between Jaskier's lips the same time a slick finger pushed at his hole. Jaskier gasped, opening his mouth and letting Geralt's tongue in. Good gods, it was burning hot as well. He moaned around the kiss and bucked his hips, trying to get more of Geralt's fingers. He didn't even know where the oil came from and he really didn't care, not with Geralt's bonfire of a body next to his; with his tongue in Jaskier's mouth and his fingers in his ass, it felt like they were touching <em>everywhere</em>.</p><p>Jaskier tangled his fingers in Geralt's hair, pulling it free from the tie. Fuck, even his scalp was on fire. “Uh, oh fuck,” Jaskier moaned as Geralt added another finger.</p><p>Lips smiled against his neck and the most delicious chuckle rumbled from Geralt's chest. “Patience, bard, patience.”</p><p>With his legs and arms wrapped around Geralt, soaking in his glorious heat, Jaskier did not mind waiting. He tried to say so only to have Geralt claim his mouth again, nipping at his lips, making them warm and soft.</p><p>When Geralt's fingers finally withdrew, the heat in the air magnified. Like back at the river, it sizzled off Geralt, making the air around them steamy and heavy. Sweat pricked on Jaskier's skin as he felt the blunt head of Geralt's cock slowly press into him. “Yes!” He wrapped his arms tighter around Geralt's neck, kissing him, pleading against his lips. “Yes, fucking yes.”</p><p>The pleasant heat coming off Geralt seemed to focus all of a sudden, reducing down to one point—the hot cock slowly pushing into Jaskier. But it didn't hurt, Geralt's touch never hurt him, and he let out a loud groan, clawing at Geralt's shoulders to try and anchor himself. Face buried in Geralt's sweaty neck, Jaskier started chanting with each thrust, “Never stop, never stop, fuck Geralt, never, never...”</p><p>The words poured from his lips and Jaskier found he could not stop speaking. “You're so perfect, sculpted from marble, I could drown in your eyes. Your skin is like fire, I want to warm myself next to you forever.”</p><p>Geralt silenced the stream of nonsense words with a kiss. Jaskier's lips kept moving under his, kept trying to talk, but eventually he gave himself over. Heat burned through both of them, sending wave after wave of pleasure cresting higher, until they came, crashing against each other, Jaskier's come splattered between them, Geralt's starting to leak from Jaskier's hole. They were filthy and sweaty and neither one cared.</p><p>Geralt pulled out and Jaskier moaned at the loss. The heat inside of him started to cool, the winter air biting at his skin once again. He clung to Geralt, trying to hold onto that warmth as long as possible.</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt said. “I'm not going anywhere.” As if to demonstrate, he laid one strong arm and a heavy leg over Jaskier's side, pulling him close. Half buried under Geralt's strong body, some of the warmth came back and Jaskier sighed, leaning back into the firm chest behind him.</p><p>It was a trick with Jaskier refusing to move away, but Geralt managed to fetch his cloak from the floor and covered them both. “Tomorrow, we'll get the remains, collect my gold and head out.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Jaskier mumbled. His eyes were closed, already half asleep. “Yes, we'll, we'll do that.”</p><p>Geralt pulled Jaskier closer and licked the salty skin at his neck, inhaling deep. The familiar smells of rosin, wood, paper and ink lingered under Jaskier's perfumes, pulling a deep rumble of pleasure from Geralt's chest.</p><p>“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, his voice soft and tired. Geralt grunted in response, half way to sleep as well. “Were you smelling me?”</p><p>Geralt chuckled. “Go to sleep, Jaskier.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A pleasantly cool tingle ran over Jaskier's skin, not frozen by any means, more like a gentle spring rain, or fresh linen sheets. “Oh, my...” He couldn't stop the moan that broke through his lips as he pushed back against Geralt.</p><p>Geralt smirked against the back of his neck. “You honestly thought I'd burn you up on a night like this?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I like the symmetry of Geralt's skin being both hot and cold as needed, so here we are. All mistakes are mine, let me know if you find one, and as always, enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier frequently thanked whatever lucky star led him to Geralt, and after they went from sharing a bed to <em>sharing</em> a bed, he threw a few gods in there too for good measure. Whoever, whatever sent Geralt of Rivia to him, he was in their debt.</p><p>However, Jaskier was a practical man with his eye on the future, a few months in the future... to summer. Summer, the beautiful sunrises, the hot days, hot sweaty nights. The idea of pushing Geralt away when the heat of his skin became too much on a summer night sent a cold spike through his gut. It hadn't happened <em>yet</em>. The spring was pleasantly crisp with some late winter winds still nipping through the air, but summer would come, it always did, and Jaskier didn't know how he'd sleep without Geralt nearby.</p><p>When the first truly hot day hit, where the heat didn't fade with the sun, Jaskier resolved to tough it out for the night. Geralt was so guarded with his emotions, and it took Jaskier a long time to break through the tough Witcher “I want nothing” exterior, he wasn't about to bruise Geralt's fragile heart by pushing him away at night. Yes, Geralt's heart was fragile, Jaskier had seen it, not from past hurt or heartbreak (though there had certainly been some of that) but from disuse. Geralt's heart was untested, not used to loving another so completely, and Jaskier would be damned before he broke that trust.</p><p>Geralt set out their bed rolls next to each other, as was their custom, and stripped off his shirt. Jaskier bit his lip. On the one hand, the fewer clothes Geralt wore, the better, but on the other, a few layers between them dulled the heat somewhat. He stripped off his own undershirt and laid down, his back hovering inches from Geralt's chest. An arm wrapped around his waist and pulled them flush together. Jaskier closed his eyes, preparing for the blazing heat he'd have to suffer through tonight.</p><p>The heat never came, instead, a pleasantly cool tingle ran over Jaskier's skin, not frozen by any means, more like a gentle spring rain, or fresh linen sheets. “Oh, my...” He couldn't stop the moan that broke through his lips as he pushed back against Geralt.</p><p>Geralt smirked against the back of his neck. “You honestly thought I'd burn you up on a night like this?”</p><p>“How?” Jaskier stretched back, hooking his arms around Geralt's neck, pressing his back as flush against that wonderfully cool chest as possible. “You're a bonfire. How are you suddenly so cool? Are you sick?” He peered over his shoulder. Geralt looked alright, same amber eyes, same pale, almost luminous skin, perfect in every way.</p><p>“Some beasts can sense body heat,” Geralt said like that answered the question. “Witchers are taught to moderate the temperature of our blood when needed, only a bit in either direction. It makes a difference. One of our lesser known abilities.” He nosed at Jaskier's neck, the cool tip sending a tingle of goose flesh down his back. “You just seem to need it more often than I first thought.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Jaskier moaned again, settling himself deeper in Geralt's arms. “You're perfect.”</p><p>Geralt grunted. “You say that a lot.”</p><p>“Because it's true.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Geralt didn't say anything more on the subject of Jaskier's praise, and Jaskier didn't push, not with the lovely, cool surface of Geralt's chest pressed against him.</p><p>With the warm night air licking the rest of his skin, the cool behind him made for absolutely perfect sleeping conditions. “Witchers,” Jaskier mumbled as sleep started to take him. “They've truly thought of everything.”</p><p>~</p><p>Like the winter before it, the summer was brutal. Once it picked up steam, it did not stop: endless days when the sun just wouldn't fucking set, stuffy nights where all the fresh air in all the forests of the world couldn't purge the dry air settled in Jaskier's lungs. Jaskier had never been near a volcano, but he felt he understood the experience now. If it wasn't for Geralt and his magical supernatural Witcher talents, Jaskier would've died from heat exhaustion. Or Geralt would have killed him for complaining too much. Either way, Geralt kept him cool at night, and Jaskier kept his mouth shut about how much he hated the fucking heat.</p><p>When they arrived at the first inn for almost a fortnight, Jaskier almost wept with joy. When he discovered the small looking glass above the wash basin, he did start crying. “Why do you need to know what you look like?” Geralt grumbled from his bath, the water not as hot as usual. “Don't you already know?”</p><p>Jaskier tore his eyes away from the glass for a moment and turned to scowl at Geralt. “Why do I, a bard, who makes most of my living by my face, need to know what said face looks like? Why indeed?”</p><p>He turned back to the glass just in time to catch Geralt's reflection, and his smirk. “Finally, you admit your voice is not the draw.”</p><p>Jaskier let out an indignant huff, but said nothing. He was too busy cutting the hair at his temples. Without a proper mirror on the road, hair cuts were always a gamble, and he couldn't let his side burns get too long and end up looking like a middle aged barkeep. He'd wondered out loud about getting a hand mirror several times, only to have Geralt grumble about wasting good coin. “First you spend your money on those terrible scents, now you want a mirror? How many useless things do you need to carry around?”</p><p>He turned his face side to side to make sure things were even, so engrossed in his haircut, Jaskier didn't see Geralt sneaking out of the bath. For someone as large as he, Geralt was surprisingly stealthy, so much so, Jaskier didn't notice him until cool breath ghosted across his neck, and by then it was too late.</p><p>Strong hands clamped down on his hips, pinning him in place. Jaskier let out an undignified shriek and Geralt chuckled, one amber eye visible in the looked glass, hovering over his shoulder. “I thought after so long with me, you'd be more observant.”</p><p>“That's what I have you for.” Jaskier placed the scissors back in the bag with his oils and scents, making absolutely sure Geralt's little surprise didn't end in accidental blood shed. “Can I help you with something?”</p><p>“Mmm, I was about to ask you the same thing.” Two cool hands snaked around Jaskier, one over his chest, coming to rest on his breast bone, just below his neck, and the other slid down, down... stopping just shy of his cock. Teeth and a deliciously icy tongue licked and scraped at the back of his neck, sending chills down Jaskier's spine.</p><p>“Bloody Witcher and your... your...” Jaskier couldn't think of an insult, his brain was frozen by Geralt's perfectly cool chest pressing against his burning summer skin. Not for the first time, Jaskier felt like a lizard sunning itself on a rock by a stream: the surface dry, but still cool, chilled by the nearby water. If there was a heaven, and it didn't include Geralt's perfect skin, Jaskier didn't want to go there.</p><p>Geralt bit the side of Jaskier's neck, producing a delicious moan. He finally closed his hand around Jaskier's cock and started lightly tugging, far too slow, and far too delicate, but it was something. Jaskier braced his hands on the edges of the wash table and moaned again. “Oh, yes... please, yes.”</p><p>“Lift your head,” Geralt said, a command in the words. Jaskier did as he was told and met Geralt's eyes in the mirror. “Watch your reflection. I want you to see yourself come apart.” Once again, Jaskier did as he was told, just in time to watch a flush travel up his chest and into his face.</p><p>The contrast of the heat of his own skin and the cool of Geralt's (hands touching the perfect places, strong chest pressing him into the wash table, no way to escape...) made him dizzy. Jaskier gasped when Geralt's cock settled between the cheeks of his ass. Not seeking entry, just resting, reminding him it was there. Oh, the things he'd let the Witcher do to him with that cock. Any part of him, really, Jaskier would take it all—hands, mouth, cock, fist—all Geralt had to do was ask.</p><p>He said as much and Geralt chuckled low in his chest. “I'll get what I need, don't worry. How about what you need?”</p><p>It wasn't a question for Jaskier to answer, because as soon as the words left Geralt's lips, his hand sped up, pumping Jaskier's cock until he spilled watching his own face in the mirror, groaning Geralt's name. Deft Witcher reflexes covered the tip of his cock and caught all his come. Still watching their reflections in the mirror, Geralt lifted his sticky fingers to his lips and lapped at Jaskier's come, he eyes locked with Jaskier's during the whole gratuitous display.</p><p>“Oh...” Jaskier's cock jumped again, one last bead of come rolling down the shaft. “You are a bad man.”</p><p>Geralt chuckled again, a deep dark sound that made Jaskeir's toes curl. “You enjoy it.”</p><p>He turned them around and deposited Jaskier on the bed. “Well my dear Geralt...” As wrung out as he was, Jaskier still had the presence of mind to open his thighs and arch back a little, showing off his finer features. “What can I do for you?”</p><p>A wolfish smile curled his lips and Geralt joined Jaskier in the bed. For the next hour or so, Geralt's hands, lips and cock explored everything Jaskier had to offer, finally spilling across the bard's surprisingly hairy chest. Heavy lidded satisfied eyes traced over him as Geralt spread his come all over Jaskier's chest, marking him with his smell. Jaskier was so blissed out and exhausted, he didn't even complain about the clean up.</p><p>~</p><p>The Continent was a large place, so large, there were spots even Geralt hadn't seen in his long life. Therefore, it continued to baffle him when they kept running into the same people, over and over again. They were on their way to Oxenfurt (Jaskier insisted they attend a festival where he'd make some truly lovely coin) when they stopped at an inn for the night.</p><p>Geralt opened the door and a set of familiar brown eyes settled on him, lightly freckled cheeks smiling. “Geralt! I've been looking for you!” Triss Merigold called from across the room.</p><p>Grinding his teeth together, Geralt stepped back out of the inn and closed the door, taking a second to wonder why the fuck in all the Continent, in all the middle of nowhere inns, he had to run into another fucking sorceress?</p><p>“Are we going in?” Jaskier asked. “See, it's getting rather late...”</p><p>“Fuck.” Geralt opened the door again and walked into the inn, making a line for Triss. He sat down next to her at the bar, Jaskier hanging behind him. “What?”</p><p>She smiled that too soft (too kind) smile of hers. “Thank the gods I found you. I've posted fliers in every village for miles. I need your help.”</p><p>Jaskier scampered off to make arrangements for their room and Geralt ordered a pint. He was not going to have this conversation sober. If he'd learned one thing about sorceresses, it was the more times you run into the same one, the more bad came of it. Some of their more recent interactions with Yen sprang to mind. Geralt did not like the tears in Jaskier's voice when he succumbed to her, and he didn't want more of the same with Triss.</p><p>The trouble was, Triss had a legitimate job for him. For the past month, a mysterious fever swept through the miners of Temeria, no one able to discover the source, several miners already died from it. King Foltest forbid Triss to venture into the caves to find the solution, he didn't want to lose her as well. Despite all he'd done for King Foltest, he didn't seem as concerned about Geralt's health.</p><p>Geralt sighed and shook his head. He already had several ideas of what it could be, no monster, more... medicinal. He'd bet his pay there were flame spores growing in the mines, enough to kill half of Temeria if he didn't help. Downing the rest of his ale, he grunted. “What are you offering?”</p><p>“Two thousand,” Triss said. “King Foltest said he'd double it if you can cure the men who still live. Four shake with fever in our healer's home even now.”</p><p>Four thousand was a lot, to say the least. Four thousand could buy Jaskier a new doublet, and Geralt a new saddle, not to mention keep them in lodgings and baths for weeks. “If it is what I think, there might be a cure. We must move quickly. Jaskier!” Geralt shouted to the corner where the bard sat tuning his lute. “Cancel our room, we're going to Temeria.”</p><p>“What, now?”</p><p>“Now.”</p><p>Jaskier sighed and went back to the innkeeper. After a lot of arguing, he managed to get half their money back and some bread for the road. His feet ached, his back hurt, and he was exhausted, the last thing he wanted to do was walk in the dark.</p><p>Bread shoved in his bag, Jaskier resigned himself to camping in the woods again and walked out of the pub. Geralt and Triss were waiting for him, standing next to— “A portal? We have a portal? How do we have a portal?”</p><p>Geralt arched an eyebrow at him. “We have a sorceress. Get in.” Without another word, he led a somewhat reluctant Roach through the swirling portal and disappeared.</p><p>Triss, with her bouncy hair and kind smile, offered Jaskier her hand. “It's good to go together if you're nervous.”</p><p>Jaskier smiled at her. “You know, you're much nicer than the other sorceress Geralt knows.”</p><p>She laughed a little. “I know.” They walked through the portal together, and exited out in front of King Foltest's castle.</p><p>“Where can I stable Roach?” Geralt asked. “Then I'll need to see the injured men—and the corpses. I might need to use your lab.”</p><p>“I'll see to Roach,” Jaskier said. “You do what you need to.”</p><p>Geralt took his alchemy bag off Roach, handed her reins over, then made his way down towards the town. He spared one last glance to Jaskier, who always wanted to help, who knew taking care of Roach was very important to Geralt, just... Jaskier. Sometimes he forgot how much he actually liked having the bard around.</p><p>After Triss pointed Jaskier to the stables, she took Geralt to the healer's home so he could see the feverish miners for himself. The healer and three nurses scurried around the house, pressing cold compress to each man, trying to dull the fever. There was no room to examine any of the patients, but Geralt didn't need to. “As I thought, flame spores in the mines. Do you know what tunnel they were down when it hit?”</p><p>“South most tunnel,” Triss said.</p><p>Geralt rubbed a hand over his face. “I can make an antidote for the fever but I need some of the spores to make it. Killing them is a separate issue.” Mostly, they needed a way to flood that tunnel. For all the damp and cold flame spores needed to grow and infest, they hated water. The only way to destroy them was to drown them. The tunnel would be useless for weeks, months probably, but no one else would die. “Can you safely flood that tunnel?”</p><p>“I'll make sure it is done.”</p><p>“Good.” He left the healer to his duties and walked back into the stuffy night air. Exhaustion pulled at Geralt's mind and he closed his eyes for a moment. They'd been on the road for too long, hadn't had enough to eat for too many nights. He was looking forward to a restful few days in Oxenfurt with Jaskier swanning about, happy as a schoolboy. And yet, here he was again, pulled into a job, such was the life of a Witcher—his only rest coming with death.</p><p>“Triss,” Geralt said, his voice dropping low so it didn't carry. Jaskier was probably still at the stables, but Geralt didn't want to have an argument. “Jaskier cannot follow me into the tunnel. The spores won't hurt me much, they'll make him as feverish as those men. I can't make the antidote if I'm... <em>concerned</em> with him.”</p><p>“Consider it done.” Geralt didn't like the knowing sparkle in her eyes, he didn't even know why he was so concerned.</p><p>Yes, he did, because Jaskier followed him like a suicidal puppy, totally unconcerned for his own mortality. He'd bitch and moan the second he got hurt, but if he got a good song out of it, the pain was always worth it, the ends justified the means. For Geralt, Jaskier's pain never justified whatever ends he achieved. Not that he'd ever tell the bard.</p><p>Getting down to work, Geralt dug through his alchemy bag until he found a clean length of cloth. Tying it around his nose and mouth, he took a few breaths to test the material. Air flowed through just enough for him to breath, yet not enough for the spores to enter. This would do. Nodding to Triss, he set off for the mines.</p><p>He remembered the layout from his last visit and managed to find the South tunnel easy enough, especially with fucking Jaskier sitting outside the mouth, like a farm boy waiting for his sweetheart. “Fuck.” He stomped over to the bard and grabbed his shoulder, marching him away. “Jaskier, no, it's not safe. The spores will kill you like they killed the others.”</p><p>“I know that!” Jaskier managed to free himself from Geralt's grip and stood just outside of his range. “I don't want to go in with you, I'm not stupid.” His face half covered, Geralt still managed to aim a withering look at him and Jaskier huffed. “I'm not! I'm offering to hold your things out here while you get some spores. Surely you don't want your whole bag possibly contaminated?”</p><p>Shit, he had a point.</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>Geralt nearly threw his bag at Jaskier and pinned the bard against the wall, opening the bag and removing a few vials for collecting spores. “Stay here. Don't move until I get back.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Relatively certain Jaskier wouldn't follow him, Geralt made his way down the tunnel, taking shallow breaths the whole way. True, the spores couldn't kill him, but he didn't want to suffer the mild fever they'd provoke in him, not when they still had so far to go before reaching Oxenfurt.</p><p>Since the fever started, no one had ventured down this tunnel and there were no torches to light his path. The darkness wasn't an obstacle for Geralt and he quickly located the spores. Dingy, rust red, they coated a rock sticking from the tunnel wall. He scraped some spores into three different vials just to be sure he had enough for the antidote and peered around for more. It looked like this was the only spot. Still, Triss needed to flood the whole tunnel.</p><p>Checking all vials were tightly corked, he headed back, throwing his face mask away before exiting out into the light. The leather of his armor wasn't a good surface for the spores to latch onto, but it was best to get rid of the cloth as soon as possible.</p><p>“Let's go!” he shouted at Jaskier. “The sooner I make the antidote the sooner I can sleep.”</p><p>“Yes, and then on to the festival!” Jaskier half ran behind him, Geralt's alchemy bag clutched tight to his chest. “Do you think your sorceress friend will portal us there?”</p><p>Hmm, Geralt hadn't thought of that.</p><p>Down in Triss' rooms, she had a work table ready for Geralt. He grunted his thanks and began unloading his alchemy supplies, placing the three vials safely away from the edge of the table. The last thing they needed was for one to shatter, infecting them all.</p><p>While Geralt busied himself earning their coin, Jaskier searched for a safe place to sit. As a rule, he generally tried to avoid mages' towers or work labs, too many unknown vials and jars to take one by surprise. “Dear sorceress—”</p><p>“My name is Triss Merigold.”</p><p>“Ah, Jaskier, lovely to meet you. Where might I be able to rest while Geralt does his thing?”</p><p>Triss showed him over to a lavish chaise lounge with soft pillows and Jaskier almost purred. “Oh, thank you so much.” He settled on the couch, and though it was on the other side of the room, he could still watch Geralt's divine shoulders and pert ass as he labored over the antidote. “Lovely,” he muttered to himself and opened his collar a little. Surly, Triss wouldn't mind? It was the height of summer after all, and she of the plunging neckline had to understand the use of clothing with ventilation.</p><p>After a few minutes lounging, Jaskier started to feel warm and sleepy, ready for a good rest before the festival... Very warm, actually. He opened another button on his doublet, then immediately opened another. Sweat beaded under his arms and Jaskier felt more sweat ticking at the edge of his hairline. “Uh, Geralt...” he called across the room, removing his doublet completely.</p><p>“I'm busy.”</p><p>“Yes, yes I know. See, I think... I'm starting to feel... hot.” Jaskier licked his lips, trying to bring more moisture to his suddenly parched mouth, and stripped off his undershirt. It was only Triss' presence that stopped him from removing his breeches.</p><p>Geralt peered over his shoulder and saw the angry red flush traveling up Jaskier's chest. “Fuck.” Abandoning the antidote for a moment, he ran over to Jaskier as Triss reached out to tend to him. “No! It'll infect you too. Stay back.”</p><p>“Geralt...” Jaskier skin was already clammy with fever, his chest heaving. Geralt heard the way too quick beat of his heart as it fought the sudden fever gripping it.</p><p>“Lay down.” Geralt pushed Jaskier back into the pillows and removed the rest of his clothes. Sharp eyes glanced around the lab and quickly spotted a water barrel. Without asking permission from Triss or Jaskier, Geralt threw all the clothing into the water, drowning whatever spores managed to grab on. “There must be more spores at the mouth of the tunnel. Damn fool.” Damn fool bard for pushing his way in to every place he shouldn't be; stupid fool for not listening; fool for following Geralt all those years ago...</p><p>“What can I do?” Triss asked, hovering far enough away to avoid any possible contamination. Geralt suspected all the loose spores were on Jaskier's doublet, he'd do another check later, for now, Jaskier's fever had already started to spike.</p><p>“Finish the antidote.” He pulled roughly at his own clothes, climbing onto the chaise with Jaskier as soon as he was naked. The poor bard was already out of his mind with fever, he didn't fight as Geralt arranged them, wrapping his arms and legs around Jaskier, touching as much as possible.</p><p>“Should we take him to the healer?” Triss's eyes scanned over Geralt's notebook and she picked up where he left off. The antidote was almost done, Jaskier could hold out a little more.</p><p>“No, just finish,” Geralt said. He took a deep breath and concentrated. Making himself warmer was no trouble, Geralt was large, even for a Witcher, and large muscles wanted for more warm blood, so he never had difficulty heating up his skin. Cold was the problem. Even with all the training and mutagens, Geralt knew better than to drop his temperature too low. Too far below normal and his heart might stop.</p><p>Images passed through his mind, an icy lake, a blizzard, a frozen mountain... Geralt visualized the coldest places he'd been and slowly felt his skin react and change, the temperature dropping. Jaskier—shivering with fever in his arms—suddenly went still. Sweat still slid against Geralt's fingers, making it difficult to hold Jaskier, but the shakes stopped. Geralt breathed a sigh of relief and placed his palm over Jaskier's heart. With any luck, the organ would start pumping cooler blood through his body, dulling the spores' effect.</p><p>Jaskier was still on fire in his arms. “Triss, how long?”</p><p>“Done,” she said. “It needs to set, then we can administer the antidote.”</p><p>Those soft eyes peered at them again before Triss turned away, probably out of some misguided attempt to protect modesty Geralt didn't have, and Jaskier had lost long ago. “I'm sorry this job endangered him.”</p><p>“Most of my contracts do.” Geralt slid his hands down to Jaskier's stomach, spreading more of his icy touch. “Mostly, it's his fault when he gets hurt.”</p><p>“Still, you seem to care for him a great deal.”</p><p>Geralt said nothing. If he let his concentration lapse for even a second, Jaskier's fever might spike again. With Jaskier's back held against his chest, and Geralt's heavy legs encircling him, they were touching as much as possible. Geralt hoped it was enough to stave off the worst of the fever while the antidote cured. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. Breathe in the fire of the summer air... breathe out icy frost to cool Jaskier... breathe in... breathe out...</p><p>So deep in his cooling meditation, Geralt almost didn't hear Triss approaching with a goblet of antidote. “Here, tip his head back.”</p><p>Geralt placed a hand on Jaskier's chin and tipped his head back, ensuring every drop made it down his throat. His body didn't even cough and sputter at the sudden liquid. In a way, it was a good thing, they got the antidote down without a fight. And yet, it showed Jaskier was more effected than Geralt first thought.</p><p>They stood in tense silence for what felt like hours but had to be only a minute. The burning body under Geralt's hands started to cool and he breathed a sigh of relief. “The fever is starting to break. Go, deliver the antidote, I'll keep an eye on Jaskier.” An eye, a hand, a leg—he wasn't letting Jaskier go until his skin was perfect healthy pink again.</p><p>Triss ran out the door, promising to be back as soon as possible. Geralt didn't really hear her, he was too focused on Jaskier's heart beat, slowly going back to normal.</p><p>While she tried to give them as much privacy as possible, there were a few things Geralt didn't want Triss to see. She already assumed too much about him and Jaskier (he didn't care if it was true, he didn't like other people trying to define their association) and he didn't want her sad eyes pitying the long-lived Witcher and his fragile human companion any more than she already did.</p><p>Geralt pressed cool kisses up the side of Jaskier's neck, blowing air across the nape and through sweaty hair. Jaskier moaned, moving closer to Geralt—his one time heat source turned personal ice box. “Yes,” he whispered. “You like the cold, don't you? Take whatever you need.” Geralt was fairly certain Jaskier was too out of it to understand his words, which was good, Geralt couldn't imagine the teasing he'd have to endure when Jaskier came back to his senses. The bard moved closer to him still, quite a feat when they were already pressed together like pickles in a jar and Geralt kissed him again, sending therapeutic cold through still too hot skin.</p><p>Dark eyelashes fluttered open and wet blue eyes stared at the ceiling. “Geralt... what happened?”</p><p>“Flame spores,” he whispered, stroking a cool hand down Jaskier's neck. “Your fever is breaking. Try not to move.”</p><p>A shiver ran through Jaskier, different than the fever shakes of an hour ago. “Your so... cold.” He nuzzled his face into Geralt's chest.</p><p>“Go to sleep, Jaskier.” Geralt passed his hand over Jaskier one more time before deciding the fever was mostly gone. Releasing a breath, Geralt chased the thoughts of ice out of his mind and felt his body temperature rise. He was still cool to the touch, but now he didn't have to worry about his heart, only Jaskier's.</p><p>Triss returned a few minutes later. “The fevers are starting to break. How is he?”</p><p>“Fine. He's coming out of it.”</p><p>“Geralt?” Jaskier's voice was small and weak, with a crackling dryness deep in his throat. “Are we naked in that nice sorceress' chambers?”</p><p>“Go to sleep,” he said again.</p><p>Jaskier's eyes closed again and his breathing evened out, a light but restful sleep. Geralt stroked his face to spread more of his cool touch, then looked at Triss. “Can I trouble you for rooms tonight?”</p><p>“It's no trouble.” A smile pulled at her lips and she turned away. “Do you, uh, want to get dressed? It's late, I'm sure no one's awake.”</p><p>Geralt pulled his breeches on and wrapped Jaskier in a blanket for the trip through the castle. Mostly asleep, he fought against the stifling warm where he'd been cool not one moment ago. “It's only for a minute,” Geralt said. He didn't know why, Jaskier was still pretty out of it, he probably wouldn't remember any of this come morning.</p><p>Once they were settled in a bed—a proper bed, not a tent or the chaise lounge in Triss's chambers—Geralt finally let himself relax. Covering them only in the thinnest sheet, he wrapped himself around Jaskier again, cooling away the remaining heat and letting sleep take them both.</p><p>~</p><p>“Geralt? Where are we?”</p><p>Geralt opened one eye. The color had returned to Jaskier's cheeks, his lips were still a little dry, but otherwise he looked fine. He swiped a hand over his forehead and all felt normal. Geralt settled back into the bed. “We are in Temeria, in the castle of King Foltest. The miners were sick with fever from flame spores. I came to make an antidote and you got infected. You're fine now, go back to sleep.”</p><p>Jaskier wriggled under Geralt's arm and he sighed, any hope of getting back to sleep gone for the rest of the morning. “I remember the first part. How did I get infected? I didn't go in the tunnel.”</p><p>“Must've been some closer to the outside.” Geralt pulled Jaskier closer in an attempt to shut him up. Jaskier's complaints usually stopped when pressed against Geralt's chest.</p><p>Jaskier didn't press the point. His hands, however, did press, right against Geralt's thighs, feeling around to his ass where they gave an appreciative squeeze. “Mmm, is it the fever talking, or were we a bit inappropriate in front of Triss Merigold?”</p><p>“It's the fever. I had to strip you down, you were going to overheat.” Geralt tried not to thrust his hips into Jaskier's ass, even as the bard tried to urge him to do so.</p><p>“Alright. Can we be inappropriate now?”</p><p>“Jaskier, you were insensate with fever not five hours ago. We need rest before we set off for Oxenfurt.” He said all this into the back of Jaskier's neck, his lips brushing over soft skin. His cock twitched and Geralt could <em>hear</em> Jaskier's fucking smirk. “No.” Subtlety be damned, they needed rest, he wasn't going to let Jaskier charm his cock like he charmed notes from his lute.</p><p>“It won't be a long journey, Triss can portal us in.”</p><p>“No,” Geralt said again.</p><p>But it was too late, he'd lost the argument. Jaskier's delicious wiggling provoked much more than a twitch from his cock and he was now fully hard against Jaskier's ass, already leaking from the tip. Geralt buried his face in Jaskier's neck, smelling the dried sweat still clinging to his skin. “Do you know how fucking frustrating you are?”</p><p>“Very.” Jaskier managed to turn around in his arms until he was face to face with Geralt. “And I owe you thanks for saving my life. You made the antidote for the miners, yes, but I benefited as well. Can't I say thank you?”</p><p>“You never do any other time I save you.”</p><p>Jaskier frowned, obviously trying to look wounded and elicit sympathy. After all these years, he still thought shit like that worked on Geralt. “Well,” he said. “Maybe I'll start thanking you more.”</p><p>Propping himself up on one elbow, Jaskier pushed Geralt onto his back and slid down under the covers, stopping at Geralt's waist. Geralt pulled back the sheet just in time to see lush lips close around the head of his cock. Those blue eyes peered up at him through long, dark lashes and Geralt moaned. “Fuck, Jaskier. Make it quick, I still want to sleep.” A weak protest at best.</p><p>Jaskier pulled off his cock with a vulgar slurp, then pressed kisses up and down the shaft. “I'll do my best.”</p><p>The intense heat of Jaskier's mouth settled over him, taking as much of Geralt's cock as possible. Jaskier covered the rest with his hand and started lightly stroking in time with soft licks and pulls of his throat. “Mmm.” Jaskier pulled off again. “I can't believe how cold it is in my mouth. Like licking an icicle. Tell me, will your come be cold too? Let's find out.”</p><p>He went back to work and did not let up again. Jaskier swirled his tongue around the head, teasing foreskin enough to make Geralt moan. Closer to the base of his cock, Jaskier's thumb applied pressure just above his balls, sending shocks of pleasure spreading through Geralt's hips, crackling like lightning up his spine. He planted his feet on the bed and caged Jaskier between his legs, holding him tight.</p><p>Pleased with the new arrangement, Jaskier flattened his tongue and managed to take a little more of Geralt's cock in his mouth. He'd never get the whole thing, such a fearsome organ as it was, but Jaskier enjoyed pushing himself. The thicker saliva at the back of his throat coated the head, and Geralt felt like his cock was covering in silk.</p><p>His hips bucked a little and Jaskier had to pull back. “Mmm, yes, right there,” Geralt grunted.</p><p>Jaskier sucked and stroked, sucked and stroked, moving his hand in time with his mouth, until...</p><p>Geralt bucked again, spurting down Jaskier's throat. He felt Jaskier swallow around him, which only made him come harder. He usually lasted longer than this... He was tired, Geralt told himself, after too many long days, after Jaskier's fever, yes, he was tired, that's all.</p><p>Jaskier didn't seem to care that Geralt wasn't up to his usual standards. Once he licked all the come and sweat from the Witcher's cock, he rested his head against Geralt's hip, staring up at him as if he were the most beautiful man in the world.</p><p>“Thank you for saving me,” he whispered.</p><p>Geralt grunted, then brushed his fingers through Jaskier's hair, soft and sweet. It was as close to <em>you're welcome</em> as they'd get.</p><p>The next morning, Triss did indeed open a portal to Oxenfurt.</p><p> </p><p>The End</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I completely made up flame spores. It sounds like something that fits in the world, so I went with it. Hope everyone enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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